For Country and Love
by Fire Bear1
Summary: The two kingdoms of Acirema and Adanac wish for continued peace and so the kings and queens agree that their children will be wed, even though they do not know the gender of the Adanacian royal baby. Five years later, Prince Alfred of Acirema is meeting someone who will be his new playmate - Prince Matthew of Adanac.


**_Someone on the Facebook page I admin on (Easily Forgotten Countries APH, in case you want to find it) won Fan of the Week (which seems to be on automatic) and I've offered to write one-shots for people if they give me a prompt. All she said was "AmeCan". And this happened. (The asterisks between sections mean large time jumps.)  
_**

* * *

The countries of Acirema and Adanac had long been in a state of wary peace. In their past, relations between them had been troubled, to say the least. Now only a few guards stood sentry at the border, staring at each other over the fast-moving river which had separated the two lands since time began. Bridges, of course, brought them into each other's lives and the opposing ideas had caused wars.

However, Adanac had called for peace, apologising for their part in the senseless deaths of Aciremans and Adanacians alike. Acirema had agreed. As time went on, however, tensions within their own countries and across the world caused the two kings to meet under a flag of peace, hoping to assuage their people's nervousness. War would be an awful thing to occur after so many years of friendship and trading.

It was decided, therefore, that their first-born children would be married to politically unite the countries. Eventually, their lands would become one. Two united states. The kings signed, unknowing of the gender of the Adanacian king's unborn child.

When it was discovered that the queen of Adanac had given birth to a son, there was an uproar. But this was dampened by a new agreement. They would be married politically – love would play no part. To bear more children, it would be allowed for them to have children of their own with mistresses.

However, the queen of Adanac was worried. What if the two boys did not get along? Another agreement was made – the two young princes would meet every summer, shortly after their birthdays, to get to know each other.

* * *

"Really?" asked Prince Alfred. "I get someone to play with?"

"Yes, my prince," replied his guardian and mentor. "So behave yourself and play nicely."

"He'll play ball with me, right?"

Sighing, the blonde man shook his head. "Alfred, listen to me. Do not play roughly. Promise me that."

"But-"

"Alfred."

"Okay, okay," sighed Alfred, dramatically. "I promise, Arthur!"

Smiling brightly at his young charge, Arthur's eyes lit up. Alfred nodded to himself in satisfaction. Getting Arthur to smile had been his goal in the past year. Now, though, his goal was to smuggle his new friend outside and away from Arthur's watchful eye.

Arthur took Alfred's hand. "Come along, now. We mustn't keep them waiting."

"Nope!" agreed Alfred.

They walked from Alfred's chambers to the parlour. This room contained couches and a large, low table. Red curtains were pulled back from the windows to allow the sunlight to illuminate the room. Cabinets at the side held mysteries that Alfred was not allowed to touch.

When they entered, Alfred scanned the room excitedly. A man stood, gazing out of the window, his long hair tied back. The sunlight made his hair seem like strands of gold. Although Alfred was not one to know about fashion or clothes, he could tell that his were finely made. He held his hands behind his back, unaware that they had entered.

Alfred pulled a face. "I thought I was getting a friend my own age!" he whined to Arthur, tugging on his teacher's hand.

At this, the man turned around, revealing his stubbled chin. His blue eyes shone merrily as he surveyed Alfred. "Mon dieu, il est si mignon," he said. Alfred blinked at him.

"Speak in our tongue, please," said Arthur. Alfred noticed that his grip tightened on him slightly and that he sounded as though he was speaking through gritted teeth.

"J'aimerais certainement bien parler dans votre langue," replied Francis swiftly, grinning at Arthur. Alfred frowned and watched for his reaction. After a few seconds of Arthur staring blankly at Francis, the newcomer shrugged a shoulder before turning to Alfred and addressing him. "Good afternoon, Your Grace." He bowed.

"Good afternoon," Alfred replied, remembering his manners.

"And I am not to be your companion for the next week." Francis turned to someone Alfred hadn't noticed before, sitting on one of the couches. He must have been small because Alfred couldn't see the top of his head. "Come, Matthieu."

A pair of feet dropped to the floor and pattered around to Francis. The little boy rounded the couch and Alfred could see that he looked similar to him. His eyes were darker and his hair a little lighter and longer. Instead of Alfred's persistent cowlick, the other boy had a stray curl which bobbed as he walked. He was also carrying a rather large, white teddy bear. When he spotted Alfred staring at him, he quickly ran behind Francis' legs, clutching his clothes.

"Hi!" said Alfred, waving at him as he gazed around his hiding place.

"H-Hello," the other boy said. He was so quiet, Alfred had to strain to hear him.

"My name's Alfred. What's yours?" asked Alfred, taking a step forward. He pointedly ignored the adults present and they seemed to be content to let him talk the younger boy out.

"I'm... Matthew," he said.

"Well, Mattie, it's nice to meet ya!"

"'You'," corrected Arthur, automatically. Alfred shot him a look and Arthur stared him down. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Alfred turned back to Matthew.

"It's nice to meet _you_."

Matthew smiled. "It's nice to meet you, too, Your Majesty."

"You don't need to do that!" cried Alfred. "I mean, you're a prince, too, right?"

"Yes," agreed Matthew, nodding. Alfred noted that his grip on Francis had loosened a little.

"Would you like to play a game? Let's play hide-and-seek! We can go _anywhere_ in the palace. And the gardens, too. It'll be so fun! Just don't forget me when I hide too well – I'm real good at hide-and-seek!"

"Indeed," muttered Arthur. Alfred could see him frowning out of the corner of his eye and decided he was probably recalling one of the number of times he had hidden from his lessons.

"You... You won't forget me, either?" asked Matthew, tentatively, now stepping out from behind Francis fully.

"'Course no- _Of course_ not!" Alfred corrected himself. "I'd never forget you, Mattie. You're my first friend!"

* * *

Matthew was still as good at hide-and-seek as he had been when they first met. It had taken him an hour to find him once again – and he was in his own palace! Mattie always grinned at him when he finally had to shout on him to come out. And he was grinning at him now, the smug git. ... He'd been listening to Arthur rant about Francis too much...

"One," began Matthew, scrunching his eyes closed. "Two."

And Alfred rushed from the room. He didn't have much time to find himself a good hiding place. Where could he go? The wardrobe in his room? No, he'd hid there last time. Panicking, the young boy rushed into a room which had its door ajar. It was the second parlour. There weren't many places for him to hide. A drinks cabinet – Arthur would scold him for sure. Another large cabinet, however, was pushed up against the far wall. He hurried over and opened the door. Only a few evening jackets were hung there so Alfred climbed in and swivelled round on his knees. Making sure he didn't jam his fingers, he pulled the door closed, leaving it open so a slither of light fell on him. If he was in the darkness, the monsters would get him, even if Arthur usually protected him from them.

Breathing heavily, he waited. It wasn't long before the door opened. He held his breath. Two pairs of feet walked in and he watched Arthur and Francis enter. Breathing a sigh of relief, he continued to watch, wondering how long it would be before Matthew turned up.

Arthur sighed as he sat down on one of the couches, his back to Alfred. "I believe they are playing hide-and-seek once again."

"Oh?" asked Francis, sitting down beside him, rather close. "Is Alfred not a little old for those kind of games."

There was a pause during which Alfred supposed Arthur was glaring at the other man. He did that a lot. "Of course not! He is a young boy. They are allowed to play as much as they want."

"Cher, he is ten years old. He will have to learn about _that_ soon."

"Shut up!" hissed Arthur. "Do not forget who else could hear us."

"Oui, oui," said Francis, dismissively. There was a pause as Alfred frowned, wondering what '_that_' was. "Arthur..."

"What is it _now_?" snapped Arthur. Alfred was glad that he had more patience with him.

"Have they agreed when you will tell him?"

The silence was almost deafening as Alfred watched Arthur stiffen, freezing in place. Finally, he seemed to deflate, a sigh emitting from him. Francis shook his head and Arthur took a deep breath. "It is not my place to defy them."

"If you had not made such a mess of-"

"Do not talk about that," said Arthur, wearily.

"Ah, desolé. Shall we bring ourselves back onto topic."

"I would rather we dropped it."

"Arthur..."

"Yes, yes. They have not decided. Or, rather, that is what they tell me when I ask. However, I have long since suspected that they will not tell him until the day."

"That is not good," sighed Francis, shaking his head again. "If he were to find a young lady..."

"I have no doubt that they would banish her."

"He would be heartbroken."

"Indeed."

"Are you going to...?"

Arthur shook his head. "If I go against them, I will be banished. There is nowhere I can go bar Adanac – and I doubt they will welcome me there."

"You could always return-"

"No. Why would you suggest that, dolt! It is the same for me as you."

Francis sighed once again. "I do not like this, Arthur."

"There is nothing we can do," Arthur replied.

"They will be upset with us."

"I know," sighed Arthur. "But there is little we can do, I'm afraid."

"Well, then," said Francis, clapping his hands as though he was closing a book. "Let us discuss plans for tomorrow. You mentioned a ride?"

"Ah, yes. There is this lovely clearing in the woods nearby. I thought we might have a picnic. In fact, I was thinking of making some scones-"

Francis' protests were drowned out by the knock on the door. A servant opened it and hurried in. "Sirs!" he cried.

"Yes, what is it?" asked Arthur, rising from his chair.

"Their Majesties wish to discuss next year's curriculum," said the servant, bowing.

"Right now?" asked Arthur. The servant nodded and stepped aside to let them leave. "Well, then, Francis. Shall we?"

"Oui," replied Francis, standing now. He reached out to Arthur who shook his head, sighed and offered his arm. The fellow teacher slipped his hand into the crook of Arthur's elbow and Alfred's mentor led them out. With a soft click, the servant closed the door behind them.

Alfred let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. What had all that been about? Who had they been talking about? When was dinner? He was getting hungry.

With a sigh, Alfred shifted in his hiding spot, wincing as he felt how his legs were seizing up. Perhaps he could find another hiding spot. He reached out to open the door.

It was opened before he could touch it and he yelped, frightened that it could be a ghost. Thankfully, it was only Matthew, grinning once again. Placing a hand to his heart to dramatise his surprise, Alfred hopped out of the cabinet and stretched.

"How did you get in?" he demanded. "I didn't hear the door open."

"I slipped in when the door was being held open by Paul," explained Matthew, clutching his toy bear in a hug. "Your turn."

"But I don't wanna!" whined Alfred. "You hide too well!"

Matthew frowned. "But you promised after that ball thing that I could pick what we played next. You promised!"

"Mattie, I-"

"You're not being very heroic and princely if you go back on your word," continued Matthew.

"Oh," said Alfred, pouting. "Okay, fine. One more time." With that, he turned, leaned against the cabinet and began to count, forgetting the conversation he had just been privy to.

* * *

"Quick!" cried Alfred. "Climb up the tree!"

"But-" began Matthew.

"No buts!" And, with that, Alfred jumped onto the bench and swung up into the branches of a thick oak tree. He clambered upwards, never standing on a branch longer then a few seconds. Finally, he reached the biggest bough and settled in, waiting for Matthew to join him. Eventually, his precious white teddy bear was thrown onto the branch and Matthew struggled to climb the last bit. Without any hesitation, Alfred grabbed his hand and pulled him up, setting him down next to his toy. He was rather old to be carrying it around, Alfred thought, but he knew it comforted him while he was outside his own country.

"If Francis finds out..." Matthew warned, panting a little.

"Don't worry! He won't."

"But they're coming this way!" wailed Matthew, quietly.

Alfred glanced below them. "That's what makes this fun," he whispered, grinning and suppressing a giggle.

Sure enough, both Arthur and Francis rounded the corner, the Adanacian mentor's hand in Arthur's elbow. They walked at a leisurely pace, neither of them speaking. Suddenly, Arthur sighed, startling Alfred. He ducked backwards, ensuring the leaves covered both of them.

"They've run off again," Arthur said, sounding exasperated. He shook his head.

"Must we catch up with them?" asked Francis. His free hand swept in an arc to the bench. "We could have a rest in this heat."

Arthur seemed to consider this, eyeing Francis warily. "Fine. Just remember to keep your hands to yourself."

"Oui, oui," said Francis, dismissively.

They sat down – right beneath Alfred and Matthew. Beside him, Matthew took a deep breath through his nose, almost as though he had wanted to gasp but had resolutely shut his mouth. Alfred grinned sheepishly at Matthew and received an unimpressed glare in return.

The two boys were trapped.

"I don't understand why they still need to run around like that," sighed Arthur as he sat. As usual, he sat with his back straight, legs crossed and his hands clasped. Francis sat beside him, looking a lot more relaxed than Arthur was.

"They are still young," Francis assured him. "Matthew has barely hit puberty – Alfred is probably conscious of this fact and thinks of him as you do of both of them."

In the tree, the boys glanced at each other, their cheeks red. When they both caught each other looking, they quickly averted their gazes. Alfred's teachings on what his body would do now had been very awkward – Arthur seemed to be embarrassed to be discussing it with him. He hadn't dared ask Matthew what Francis' talk had been like.

"Yes, well..." Arthur trailed off with another sigh. "They are growing up too fast."

"Indeed," Francis agreed before pausing. "Have they-?"

"No," said Arthur. Alfred was sure he was frowning but, as he could only see the tops of their blonde heads, he was unable to confirm that. "They haven't. They still seem to be under that impression they can keep it from him. That they have a _right_ to hide this."

Francis nodded. "This is unacceptable. It is almost as bad as spending the citizens' money."

"Oh, now you're just bringing up an old topic, Francis. Leave it alone."

"Ah, oui. How silly of me. We must do something to prepare them."

"But what?" asked Arthur, turning sideways on the bench so that he was facing Francis. "We cannot tell them. If we _hint_ at it, they will have our heads."

"They must be told, though. How else will they be wed?"

Arthur shook his head, seemingly in dismay as the boys wondered who they were talking about. "I do not think they intend to tell them till they are in the abbey."

"Non!" gasped Francis. "Queen Caroline has always told me that she wanted them to know beforehand. That is the whole reason for these visits, after all!"

"It is not my choice – do not shout at me."

"I was not shouting," protested Francis.

"Yes, well. I am worried. They will not react well to this news if they do not tell them soon."

"Oui. How upset do you think they will be?"

Arthur shrugged. "I believe Alfred will be rather angry with me."

He had mentioned his name. Were they talking about him? Being wed? What did that mean? That couldn't mean- They wouldn't-

Slowly, carefully, Alfred turned to Matthew with wide eyes. His shocked expression was mirrored in the other prince's face. 'Wed?' he mouthed, being careful not to make a sound. With his eyes still wide Alfred shook his head. They must be misunderstanding them.

"Angry? Never. Alfred loves you," said Francis, tilting his head slightly.

"Not at all. I am merely furniture to him, something that is always there. Something that will only be noticed upon its absence or change in place."

Did Arthur really think that of him? Alfred wondered. Of course he loved Arthur – he was like an amazing older brother. However, Francis had distinctly said something about being wed. If he had been keeping something like that from him...

"I doubt that, mon cher."

"Even if that is not the case, he will still be furious that I have not told him. He is ever the boy to represent freedom – imagine his disgust at an arranged marriage. No freedom to choose; no freedom to back out. There is no doubt in my mind that he will be livid. And I will bear the brunt of it."

There it was again. Alfred and marriage. This time Arthur had said it and Alfred could not doubt his words. It was true. His parents had arranged for a marriage. But something in Alfred's mind continued to deny it. There was no way his parents would do that to him. No way...

"Ah, oui. Matthieu... Matthieu may have the same reaction," sighed Francis.

"What on Earth do you mean?" chuckled Arthur. "Matthew is so well-behaved I hardly foresee him shouting at you."

"That is what you do not know about Matthieu. He is adorable until you get him mad – then you must run for cover or face his incredible wrath."

The two men below them laughed at that. Alfred glanced at Matthew and noticed him pouting. He _was_ rather adorable. It was amusing seeing him get upset at something that was obviously a compliment.

"I still do not see him being all that upset," pointed out Arthur once they had stopped. "Queen Caroline always fusses over him – he hasn't had as much freedom as Alfred."

"Non, mais... He was wanting to travel with me."

"Travel? With you?" Francis nodded. "Where to? Don't tell me..."

"Oui. I would like to visit my home soon. The people are becoming restless."

"And you want to take Matthew into that?!" cried Arthur, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation.

"Of course not!" snapped Francis. "I want to take him before it starts – ou after it is over."

"Hm," said Arthur, sounding doubtful. "But, of course, he will not be able to go. Their relationship will be tenuous at best and it would not be wise to drag the countries into a war."

Francis nodded in agreement. "Ah, we have sat here for quite some time. Shall we go find our charges?"

Arthur nodded and stood, holding out his hand. Francis took it and Alfred's beloved mentor helped pull him up. "Yes, you are right. Let us get back to work."

As they sauntered away, Alfred slid his gaze to Matthew. He was staring at the teenager with wide eyes. They were both asking the same questions. Was all of that true? What had it been about? Who was Alfred to marry? Why couldn't Matthew go travelling?

Slowly, still rather shocked, they slid down the tree, reluctant to face their guardians.

* * *

Once Matthew and Francis had left, after Arthur had gone to bed, once most of the servants had finished their work, Alfred slipped from his chambers. Quickly, he rushed to his father's study and knocked on the door. "Come in!" came the gruff voice within. Alfred did so and turned his glare on his father. The king glanced up and frowned. "Should you not be in bed?" he asked.

"Yes, but I don't care about that," said Alfred, stepping forward. He ignored the piles of paperwork the king had to work through and narrowed his eyes further. "Is it true I am already betrothed?"

The king's soft, blue eyes widened. Then his brow furrowed, his eyes hardening. "Who told you this?"

"You haven't answered the question!" snapped Alfred, slamming his hands onto the desk and upsetting a neat stack of paper. "Tell me, Father!"

His father hesitated for a moment. Then he sighed, laid down his pen and pulled off his reading spectacles. "Yes. It is true."

"But- Why? To who?" demanded Alfred, shocked and hurt. How could they do this to him? He wanted to choose his wife himself.

"It is a political thing. I am sorry."

"To who?!" shouted Alfred.

"Prince Matthew of Adanac," his father replied.

Alfred's eyes widened, his lips parting slightly in surprise. "No," he breathed. "No, he- We can't. He's like a brother to me. He's my best friend – we can't marry!"

"It was not our decision for you to be so acquainted," explained his father. "Queen Caroline insisted on these visits. Please understand, this is for the good of both countries. You have been taught about the wars in your history lessons?" Alfred nodded, not able to speak with the lump in his throat and the tears in his eyes. "Well, this should stop more bloodshed. Do you not agree?" Alfred nodded once again, the revelation still slowly sinking in. "Good. Now... Who told you?"

"No-one," whispered Alfred. "I overheard..."

"Who?" asked his father, leaning forward.

Their eyes were locked and Alfred could almost see the rage within his father. If he told him anything, Arthur would be in terrible trouble. But he had betrayed Alfred, told him he would always look out for him. Knowing about this and keeping it from him felt like he had done the opposite. And Alfred was angry, too. Arthur should have told him. He should have done _something_-

"Arthur and Francis," answered Alfred.

* * *

The next morning, Alfred felt a little guilty about tattling on Arthur. However, his anger was still present so he decided to shout at him once he had turned up for his lesson. So he was very surprised when Toris entered in a hurry, his arms full of scrolls. "I am so sorry that I am late, Your Majesty!" he gasped as he stopped at the desk.

Ignoring the apology, Alfred asked, "What's up with Arthur?"

Toris flickered a look towards him, a mix of apologetic and sad. "I am afraid that... Well, Arthur asked me to cover for him today but I may be your teacher from now on."

"Why?"

A pause filled with the rustling of parchment. "I... He... Arthur is packing. He is being..."

"What? What's he doing? Where is he going?!" demanded Alfred, desperate and scared. What had his father done?

"He has been banished from the palace."

Alfred was out of the room within seconds.

* * *

Alfred swung around the door frame and into Arthur's room just as he was closing the last box of books. He glanced up and smiled when he saw Alfred before his lips curved down and his brows formed a V. "What are you doing here? You have a class right now, do you not?"

"I know. I don't- Arthur, what-?"

"It is okay," said Arthur, walking over to him. "It is not your fault."

"But I-"

"I know. But it was not your fault, Alfred. I should not have kept it from you." Arthur placed his hands on Alfred's shoulders and leaned over. The young prince was still shorter than the mentor but he was growing quickly. It would not be long before he was the same height. "I should have told you from the start. After all, I know well the feeling of having something kept from one for years. Please do not blame your parents. They are trying to do their best for you and the country."

Sniffing, Alfred shook his head. "Y-You can't _go_!" he cried as he teared up.

At this Arthur smiled. Then he did something he had not done since Alfred was ten. Alfred found himself pulled into a hug, a hand rubbing his back. "I am not going far, Your Majesty," murmured Arthur. "I will still be in the city. Come visit me when you can – with the proper entourage. And I will send you letters every day. Do not worry about me." He pulled away a little and stared into Alfred's blurry eyes. "Concentrate on your studies. Remember what I have taught you. In time, you will be a fine young man and a brilliant prince. Afterwards, you will be a fantastic king."

"I-I'm sorry, Arthur," mumbled Alfred.

"Ah, pish posh, love. It's fine, really." Arthur smiled sadly down at Alfred as he straightened up. "I cannot stay here forever."

"Why not?"

"Enough," said Arthur, firmly. "Toris will be your teacher for now. So you must listen to him. Go back to your lessons. The poor man will be worried."

* * *

True to his promise, Arthur wrote every day and Alfred found himself confiding in him more so than anyone else except Matthew. Once a week he insisted on seeing Arthur. His parents reluctantly obliged, though that was probably because of the scene he made the first time he asked. This way, he also got to see more of the city.

It was probably a good thing Arthur had been sent away – children in rich families were tutored by Arthur who used some of the money he received to pay for his poorer students' education. Alfred was witness to some of his lessons and, seeing the rags some of the eager children wore, he thought about what he could do as king.

A few months after his banishment, however, Arthur sent a letter saying that he was going back to his homeland of Dnalgne. He explained that his reasoning was not to be written down lest someone intercepted the letter. Alfred couldn't think why anyone would want to – until he heard the news.

There was a rebellion in Dnalgne, trying to overthrow the despot in charge. Apparently, he had come to the throne after some sort of military government which had failed and collapsed. The instigator had been banished because he was a relative of the new king and he could not kill him. Alfred hoped that Arthur was not going to get involved.

Of course, Arthur placated his disappointment by telling him he would write as often as he could. However, because of the distance between the two (and, probably, because of the impending war), Arthur's letters would be few and far between. However, it cheered Alfred up to know that Arthur would think of him whilst he was away.

Meanwhile, he received a worried letter from Matthew. Apparently, Francis' homeland of Ecnarf was revolting against the king once again. During the last one, Francis had been involved but had run when they failed. Now he was returning home, leaving Matthew with a friend of his as his mentor, a man named Gilbert.

Alfred worried over the three of them for the following year and a half – for, around their fifteenth birthday, Alfred's parents went off to a war brewing to the south. Arthur's and Francis' homes were being ravaged by a long war and Matthew and he were forbidden from journeying from their own kingdoms. He didn't see Matthew that year and it was the worst birthday he had ever had. The three of them had been like family to Alfred, perhaps more so than his parents. Missing them put a dampener on his day. And he wasn't even allowed fireworks because they cost too much in the current economic climate.

Matthew and Alfred didn't meet again until Alfred's 16th birthday...

Since they had missed out on one meeting, Matthew came to visit for two weeks. And for those two weeks, Alfred knew that something was wrong. Something was odd.

Both of them had grown taller but Matthew looked almost _softer_ than he had before. In all his years of knowing him, Alfred had thought of Matthew as being his friend, as being someone equal to him and equally tough and hardy. Now, though, with his slightly longer hair and that adorable little curl, Alfred thought he looked a little weaker than him.

Of course, Alfred had been trained in duels and jousting and all manner of things. As far as he knew, Matthew had been kept away from that by his persistent mother. But this meant that, although both were now at least as tall as Arthur (or thereabouts), Alfred was more muscular than Matthew. And Arthur and Francis, in fact.

However, perhaps the reason he looked 'softer' was the emotions churning inside him. Happiness at seeing him. Excitement. Wanting to touch him and kiss him and... Whenever Matthew smiled at him or brushed against him, he felt something deep in his stomach. It had scared him to feel like this, almost as though he was struggling to keep it in control. So much so, he had written to Arthur and prayed it would be able to get back in time.

Luckily, instead of sending it via ship as was the norm, Alfred borrowed Gilbert's pet bird and used him as a messenger. Gilbert was a rather nice guy, even if he was really pale and his hair was white and his eyes were red and he reminded Alfred of a vampire. He had been surprised when he had first seen him (not scared of course, because someone as strong and heroic as he would not be scared) but he was friendly and laughed a lot.

Finally, his reply returned to him on Matthew's last day in Acirema. He was ecstatic to read Arthur's musings on the subject. However, he was not prepared to read one of the last paragraphs.

_Of course, all of this can be explained away by those reasons, if one thinks logically. However, there is another explanation that can be presumed. You may, Alfred, be in love with dear Matthew. If that is the case, this is good news. You will be marrying for political reasons, yes, but you will love the person you marry. That is what matters in the long run. Do not forget my lessons, my dear, and good luck._

Of course, as soon as he read it, he knew it was true. He was in love with Matthew. His desire to kiss Matthew was not odd or something to fight against. Especially when he remembered a lesson Arthur had taught him. _"Always do what you think is right, Alfred, no matter who tries to tell you otherwise."_

And it felt right to want to kiss Matthew. If that was the case then he would do it!

Rushing from his chambers, he hurried to Matthew's guest chambers and knocked on the door. Gilbert answered, yawning and hardly acknowledging Alfred. He gestured into the room and, when Alfred asked to be left alone, he shrugged and walked away.

Matthew was in his bed having apparently been woken by Alfred. He blinked sleepily at Alfred before yawning, covering it with a hand. "G'morning," he managed.

"Mornin'!" cried Alfred, leaping onto the bed, fully clothed. Matthew was wearing pyjamas. The buttons created a V on his chest and Alfred found himself staring at his collarbone.

"What are you doing here so early?" asked Matthew, rubbing his eyes. It was a cute gesture and Alfred felt warm and tingly all over. He grinned, knowing it was love that was the cause of this.

This did not stop him from being nervous. "Well, I thought we could do lots of stuff together today and I wanted you awake to experience it."

The sleepy prince chuckled. "You didn't need to wake me so early, surely?"

"Yeah, I did..." said Alfred, quietly, now staring at Mattie's lips. Maybe he shouldn't. But he wanted to. What would Matthew do if he kissed him now? He had vaguely thought about courting him for the day before the kiss but he wanted to do it _now_ so badly. It was looking as though his excitement had forced him to make a bad choice once again...

"Al?" asked his precious prince.

"Hm?"

"Why are you staring?"

Alfred made the mistake of glancing up and into Matthew's intoxicating eyes. He had always found them pretty – better than his which were a pure blue. Matthew's seemed to have blue and violet and so many other colours. Once he had tried to list to Matthew what he could see. They had giggled about it when Alfred had been 9 and Matthew 8. Now, though, they made him want to lean forward and...

He almost didn't realise that their lips were touching. However, he caught them doing just that and he closed his eyes, pushing into the kiss. Francis had once, sneakily, taught both Alfred and Matthew how to kiss. They hadn't used each other to practice on, merely listening to what the elder had to say, trying not to blush and trying not to look guilty when Arthur had returned from wherever he had gone for a few minutes. So he knew, vaguely, what to do.

Tilting his head, he opened his mouth ever so slightly. His hand reached up and cupped the back of Matthew's head, holding him still. The other rested lightly on Matthew's knee – he was too nervous to have the confidence to put it anywhere else. Unthinkingly, his tongue darted out, licking along Matthew's moving lips.

Unfortunately, this small action seemed to drag the other from his own daze, wherein he had been kissing Alfred back. Matthew jerked away, his hands flying up to keep Alfred from following. "Are you-?" he breathed. "What are you doing?"

"Wha-?" asked Alfred, slowly coming back to himself and straightening up.

"Is this a joke?" demanded Matthew, a frown crossing his face.

Alfred's eyes widened. So Matthew didn't feel the same? After all, in stories and everything he had heard, when people kissed each other, they knew why. They knew they loved each other (or, at the very least, were attracted to each other). But, if Matthew was asking...

Quickly, he threw his head back and laughed. "Haha, of course it is, dude! Best wake up call ever, amirite?"

Matthew's frown only deepened. "Alfred..." he said warningly.

But Alfred was already in the process of fleeing. He backed off and jumped from the bed. "Hey, see you at breakfast!" he cried out, rushing from the room.

In the regal hall, he paused. There was no way he could face Matthew again just yet. He felt like crying, like sobbing into his pillow for hours and maybe eating something sweet till his teeth rotted. Or, maybe, riding to a secluded clearing and sitting, absolutely still, till the animals reappeared and he could watch them while he cried silently. Maybe he could go into the city and find a kind girl on whose shoulder he could cry on.

One thing was certain, though – he did not want to see Matthew again for another year. The realisation of his love and the subsequent rejection had been too swift for him. He felt like he was in a state of shock.

So he rushed off, unaware of Matthew hurriedly pulling open the door to his chambers, missing Alfred by a few seconds.

* * *

It was another two years before Alfred saw Matthew again. When he turned 17, there had been a message saying that Matthew had taken ill. Both sets of parents refused to let Alfred travel to visit and he spent the weeks after hearing the news worrying about the other prince until he received a letter telling him that Matthew had recovered and would definitely be in Acirema the next year – for the wedding.

In the interim, they continued their letters but neither spoke about the kiss. It was as though a veil had been placed on their letters. Alfred's barely hid his blossoming love. Matthew's seemed to hide _something_ but Alfred was never sure what.

Of course, the letters between Arthur and Alfred continued until, suddenly, they dried up. Arthur apologised, telling him that he was becoming very busy. Francis said the same, though he did add that he would try to see Alfred soon.

Meanwhile, in Dnalgne, the king was overthrown and a new king placed on the throne. No-one outwith the country seemed to know who it was and Alfred would not meet him until his wedding. In Ecnarf, the rebellion had succeeded and now they were operating in a democracy. One of the leaders had been given the title of Premier Ministre and he and his associates were running the country as fairly as they could manage. Alfred was looking forward to meeting the man.

Finally, the day of the wedding arrived and it was time for Alfred to face Matthew. He waited at the front of the palace, tugging at the cravat he had been forced to wear. His tunic and breeches were white with gold highlights. The plain gold crown he hardly wore weighed on his brow. He found himself nervously pushing his spectacles up his nose repeatedly.

The guests began to arrive. One by one he greeted them, smiling at them merrily. The ladies curtseyed and the men bowed to him.

Eventually, someone he recognised appeared. "Francis!" he cried, rushing down the steps to him. The old mentor was holding a cane which seemed to be for decoration more than anything else. His royal blue clothes stood out against the silver carriage he had been collected in. They embraced and Alfred stepped back to look at his happy face. Francis looked happier than he had been when he had taught Matthew. "You look good. How've you been?"

Francis grinned as they ascended the stairs. "Never better. Have you heard, cher, that I am now Premier Ministre. The only one of its kind, in fact."

Alfred gaped at him. "_You're_ him?" he breathed. "That's amazing!"

Taking him to the side, Francis smiled at him. "What is more amazing is this wedding."

"Huh?"

"You are about to be married to the one you love, are you not? J'adore amour."

The young prince's eyes widened. "I- Wha-? How do you know?!"

"Well, Matthew has written to me whilst I have been away."

"He told you?" gasped Alfred. "He told you about... the kiss?"

"Oui. Et he was ecstatic and worried. I think he stressed so much he became ill-"

"No way!"

"Hm?"

"He... I thought... Ecstatic? Why?"

Francis blinked. "Why, because he-" He broke off and smiled. "Perhaps I should let him tell you himself, non?"

"Tell me what?" asked Alfred.

"Don't you dare, Frog!" snapped a familiar voice behind Alfred. His eyes widened once again and his jaw dropped as he spun around to find Arthur smiling up at him. "Let Matthew do it."

"Oui, of course," Francis replied. "Félicitations, par la manière," he added as he swept away and into the palace.

Alfred stared down at Arthur. He was smaller than he remembered – or was it just because he had grown taller. His hair was messy as usual, but less so, as though he had made an effort. The clothes he was wearing were green and well-made. Expensive things. Gold buttons adorned them. A long dark blue cloak hung from his shoulders. But the most amazing thing was the large crown resting on his head.

"You're- Er...?" Alfred managed.

Arthur chortled. Then he placed a hand over his heart and bowed as deeply as he could without the crown falling. When he straightened up, he said, "Greetings, Prince Alfred. I am King Arthur of Dnalgne. It is a pleasure to meet you on this fine day."

"You're _king_?!" cried Alfred in disbelief. "All this time, you were a prince and you never- But why were you-?"

They were interrupted by the rattle of several carriages and the clopping of hooves on the courtyard cobbles. Arthur glanced behind him and smiled. "I will explain everything later. You, I feel, would much rather greet this guest. Congratulations, Alfred." And with that he swept away, his cloak billowing in his wake.

Blinking, Alfred stared after him for a moment before he glanced around. He met his future husband's gaze as he stood at the bottom of the stairs. Matthew was wearing a white tunic of his own, the buttons and silver filigree covering the entirety of his tunic. A pair of spectacles glinted at him; perhaps the rims were made of silver, like his plain crown. As usual, he looked beautiful even as he fiddled nervously with the hem of his clothes.

The Acireman prince grinned and rushed down the stairs. "Mattie!" he cried, throwing his arms around him. "I've missed you!"

"I missed you, too, Al. And... I need to talk to you."

"What? What is it?" asked Alfred, pulling away. He both sounded and looked worried.

"Can we go somewhere private?"

"Sure, c'mon," said Alfred and grabbed his hand to pull him towards the stables. Instead of going inside, however, he ducked around the building and stopped. "I don't think anyone will look for us here. What's wrong?"

"I must apologise," sighed Matthew.

"What for?"

"For pushing you away the day you kissed me." Matthew's eyes were averted.

"Oh, um," said Alfred and glanced away, too. "'S'okay. I was being stupid. No hard feelings, okay?" He tried to grin and look back at Matthew but, in his embarrassment, he couldn't quite do it. So he was rather surprised when Matthew gripped his arms. Glancing at him, he found Matthew staring straight at him, determination in his eyes.

"The reason... The reason I did that was because... Well, I was shocked, for one. But I also didn't want to be kissed by you if it was only a joke. I mean, I thought you'd noticed how I was acting for those two weeks. After all, I think I was rather obvious about my feelings for you." At this, he glanced away, a soft blush spreading slowly across his cheeks. "I-I realised them when we couldn't meet for a year. I was _desperate_ to see you. So, when I finally did, I didn't want to be away from you for a second. And I certainly didn't want to go home.

"Last year," he continued, his gaze flickering to Alfred's wide eyes, "I couldn't face you. I just... Well, I though that, maybe, there was a chance... And I had rejected... I'm sorry. I tried to stop myself but I think-"

He was cut off as Alfred pressed his lips against his once more. Slowly, Matthew responded, his hands lightly trailing up and around Alfred's neck. Alfred's own arms wound lazily around Matthew's waist. Once again, he used his tongue, finally gaining access to Matthew's mouth. Matthew responded more and more eagerly as they continued until they pulled apart for breath.

"I love you," whispered Matthew.

"Yeah. Me too," breathed Alfred as he tried to catch his breath.

"We should probably go out there," added Matthew as the distant calls of their parents filtered through their intimate bubble. "For the wedding."

"Uh huh," said Alfred, absently. "For our countries."

"And for us," Matthew pointed out with a dazzling smile.

Alfred nodded with a wide grin. "Definitely."

* * *

_**So, that happened. Most of it is taken up of Arthur and Francis. ^^"  
**_

_**Speaking of, I never did decide whether they were in a relationship or not. You can take it either that they were or Arthur was just being polite/friendly/civil when offering his arm.**_

_**Translations: Mon dieu, il est si mignon = my God, he is so cute.**_

_**J'aimerais certainement bien parler dans votre langue. = I would certainly like to speak your language/tongue. (Francis totally means the latter, nudge nudge, wink wink. And Arthur totally knew this but he stares back blankly so as to not let Francis have the satisfaction of getting a reaction.)**_

_**Félicitations, par la manière. = Congratulations, by the way.**_

**_Arthur's backstory: Arthur was the prince of Dnalgne and raised as such. However, his parents kept his true lineage from him - he was the son of a maid, not the queen. Being illegitimate, he wasn't allowed to take over from his father and his uncle was to do that instead. (His uncle being Scotland, but that's not important.) Anyways, he got rather annoyed at this and resented the monarchy. So he overthrew it an instated a military government ala Oliver Cromwell. And we all know how well that government went. (e.g. badly, in case you don't know) This government was overthrown in turn by the people and Scotland was reinstated as king. Arthur was banished by his uncle so he fled to Acirema where he was taken in by the king a year before Alfred was born and two before their marriage agreement. They asked him to raise their son as well as possible and he agreed. Unfortunately, for Dnalgne, Scotland was rather depressed with his brother's death and his nephew's banishment and he began drinking, using the taxpayers money. The people got restless - rebellion - Artie joined in - Artie crowned as king._**

**_Francis' backstory: He started the rebellion in Ecnarf and was actually their leader. (Possibly after the death of someone he loved? I never did decide why...) When it collapsed, he fled the country. When he went back, he became one of the generals and took over after the death of the new leaders. And they won and decided he would be the best Prime Minister. He argued against it but finally, reluctantly, agreed._**

**_Alfred actually fell in love with Matthew way before either of them realised when he heard Matthew cursing in French when he was 9 and Matthew was 8. When Alfred took such an interest in him at this point, Matthew also fell for him. (I literally just made this up but I missed out on the whole Alfred being impressed with Matthew's French in the actual story.) Only it'd be called "Ecnarfian" or something._**

**_When Alfred says "Amirite", I only put that cause I imagined him saying "Am I right?" rather quickly. It hurt me to do._**

**_I think that's it. Message me if there are questions..._**


End file.
